Chapter 7: What Mark Thought Would Happen
He called three times that evening.
Lauren let all three go to voicemail.
She listened to each one on speaker, sitting at the kitchen table with a notepad in front of her, writing down anything that might matter later.
The first message was an apology.
Long, circular, full of the word "complicated."
The second was a request to talk.
He said he wanted to explain in person.
He said she wasn't being fair.
The third was different.
"Lauren, I know you've been talking to Diane.
She called me after you spoke.
I need you to understand — she's not well.
She's been making things up.
Whatever she told you about the timeline, about what I promised her — it's not accurate.
She has a history of this.
I should have told you about her a long time ago, but I was trying to protect you." A pause.
"Please don't make any decisions until we've talked.
For the baby's sake."
Lauren stopped the recording.
She wrote two words on the notepad: *history of this.*
"He's already building the story," she said.
"Yes."
"He's going to say she's unstable.
That she invented the relationship or exaggerated it." She tapped the pen against the paper.
"He used that word with you too.
Last night.
He said she wasn't stable."
I nodded.
"So that's his plan." She said it without anger.
Just recognition.
"Discredit her before anyone else can listen to her."
The lawyer Lauren found was named Patricia Holt.
She had an office twenty minutes away and agreed to a morning appointment.
Lauren had emailed her the bakery security footage, the photo from her phone, the note, and a written summary of both phone calls before she went to bed.
Patricia called back within the hour.
"I've reviewed what you sent," she said.
"Come in at nine.
Bring everything you have."
Lauren was already at the table when I came downstairs the next morning.
She had printed the emails.
She had a folder.
Patricia's office was on the second floor of a building that smelled like carpet cleaner and old coffee.
She was in her late fifties, silver-haired, and she shook Lauren's hand like she meant it.
She read through the folder while we sat across from her.
She didn't rush.
She turned pages, made small notes in the margin, went back twice.
"He changed the gender result," she said finally.
"Yes."
"And the bakery has footage."
"The baker kept a copy.
She said she'll provide it."
Patricia set the folder down.
"Has he been served yet?"
"No.
We only spoke last night."
"Good.
Don't contact him again before we file." She looked at Lauren directly.
"I want to talk about the paternity question regarding the other pregnancy.
That affects several things — support calculations, custody considerations if he attempts to claim involvement in both households.
Have you spoken to Diane Calloway directly?"
"Yesterday.
She agreed to a test."
Patricia made a note.
"I'll reach out to her attorney if she has one.
If she doesn't, I'll recommend she get one.
It's cleaner for everyone." She looked up.
"Lauren, I want to be honest with you.
This is going to be difficult.
He will fight it.
He will use the pregnancy against you — claim you're emotional, claim you're acting impulsively.
He will try to slow everything down."
"I know."
"Are you prepared for that?"
Lauren looked at her folder.
Then at Patricia.
"I've been preparing for hard things for four years," she said.
"I know how to wait."
Patricia almost smiled.
We were nearly at the door when Patricia's assistant knocked and opened it.
"Sorry to interrupt.
There's a man downstairs asking for Lauren.
He says he's her husband.
He followed her here."
Lauren turned around slowly.
Patricia stood up from her desk.
"Tell him she's in a legal consultation and is unavailable," Patricia said.
"And call building security."
The assistant nodded and left.
Lauren looked at me.
"He's escalating," Patricia said from behind us.
"That's actually useful.
It tells us something about how he's going to behave." She picked up her pen.
May you like
"Sit back down.
We're not done."
